


if my tongue stops working, my brain seems to flood

by ralphstatortots



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, M/M, grimacing face emoji, implied james/alex but its just fake talk, yeah. inabber gets slapped for bein Stooopid Boooy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralphstatortots/pseuds/ralphstatortots
Summary: “You–” Fraser trembles out weakly, a shakiness underlining it. “You slapped me.”“I did,” James agrees, soft, like his voice is a ghost that has come back to haunt him. “Because you wouldn’t shut up about some stupid fucking joke I made.”Tears spill over finally, finished with teetering on the edge of falling, and James is helpless from stopping the thought of how Fraser looks pretty like that.“You–You fucking hit me.” Fraser repeats again, firmer this time, sounding angry for the brief second that James is listening.





	if my tongue stops working, my brain seems to flood

**Author's Note:**

> yeah…………...inabber should get a right smack round the face dont u think fellas
> 
>  
> 
> title from the thinker by psychedelic porn crumpets

There’s only so much of one thing somebody can take, before it’s pushed beyond a line they can’t come back from.

Fraser wants to act up apparently for...whatever reason it is today. He keeps trying to belittle James, teasing and joking with words more biting than usual. James knows it’s a joke, all for the camera as they wrap up a video for Fraser’s channel, but an undertone of something real sits under the words.

But it turns bitter when James makes a joke about Alex, something only barely passing through his head before he says it – something about kissing him, or fucking him. Something like that, James has grown worryingly too used to joking about those sorts of things. But Fraser seems to take it literally, curling in on himself and going quiet.

“Is that why you keep fucking inviting him over for no reason?” Fraser says suddenly, once the camera has been turned off. “You trying to bend him over the sofa then and there, are you?”

“What the fuck?” James responds before he can think of anything else, stopping himself in his tracks just as he was about to move past Fraser to leave. “Mate, what are you on about?”

Fraser exhales out his nose, turning his chair to face James fully. “Is that why keep inviting Alex over? To try and fuck him?”

James looks down at the other boy for a second before scoffing. He’s not in the mood for whatever this spat is going to be – over a joke he’s made plenty of times before, no less. “Fuck off,” He shakes his head, going to move past Fraser’s chair. He’s stopped when Fraser shuffles his chair into the gap.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Fraser spits out, leaning back in his seat to look up without straining his neck. “You want to fuck Alex. You invite him over to–to, I dunno, try and get him on his knees? Bend him over the sofa? I bet you fuck your fist at night thinking of him, wishing it was his–”

There’s only so much somebody can take.

It’s not the wisest idea to listen to what his instincts tell him to do, and James knows this, but he finds himself watching as he slaps Fraser, watching from above like he’s lost from his own body. He hadn’t meant to, only that the frustration apparently became too much from hearing things that aren’t the slightest bit true be said by one of the people he’s closest to.

James isn’t sure what came over him then, and he’s even less sure about what follows.

Guilt sits heavily in his chest when tears flower in Fraser’s eyes, wavering unsteadily as a slow hand comes up to rest on his struck cheek. It’s already turning a light crimson underneath his pale hand, and frightened, tearful eyes glue themselves to James. He looks like he’s about to be eaten, like prey cornered by a predator, and that makes James feel more than a little dizzy.

“You–” Fraser trembles out weakly, a shakiness underlining it. “You slapped me.”

“I did,” James agrees, soft, like his voice is a ghost that has come back to haunt him. “Because you wouldn’t shut up about some stupid fucking joke I made.”

Tears spill over finally, finished with teetering on the edge of falling, and James is helpless from stopping the thought of how Fraser looks pretty like that.

“You–You fucking hit me.” Fraser repeats again, firmer this time, sounding angry for the brief second that James is listening.

“And you’re fucking crying,” James snorts, thinking them as crocodile tears. Maybe Fraser is fishing for sympathy for the slap he’d gotten, trying to earn an apology. But there’s something _real_ about them as they flow in a formed river down his cheeks, breathing coming out rough the more it continues. “Crying like a baby, over a little smack.”

“It fucking hurt!” Fraser cries and digs his fingers into his pink cheek, tears sticking to the line of his fingers as they fall. “Fuck you,” He spits out and narrows his tearful gaze upwards underneath his glasses, suddenly finding his bark again. “You go around hitting all your friends over nothing, do you? I bet you don’t fucking hit Alex like that–”

There it is again – the act of doing something without thinking, no consequences or repercussions to be found as James catches himself striking the boy again. It’s the other cheek this time, unguarded by a clutching hand.

It earns him a sharp whimper followed by a resounding gasp. His body falls to the side, just slightly, enough to show that he’s caught off guard by the action.

“Fuck,” Fraser chokes out, chest convulsing for a moment as he tries to steady his breathing. A sniff and a heavy intake of air fills the silence that James feels hanging over his head, and a gasp follows when Fraser moves his hand to his other cheek. “Do it again.”

It settles into the silence again, like after the first strike James gave, full of bated breath and tear-filled stares.

James can’t help it; seeing Fraser cry like this does something to him – which _isn’t_ a thing he thought he wanted – and hearing him ask for _more_ of the pain that he’s crying over makes James’ cock swell in his jeans.

“More?” James says, his voice feeling loose in his chest, “You want _more?_ ”

Fraser nods and braces himself upright on his hand, tears coming along heavy when he rubs his fingers into his pinkened cheek. “Please,” He whispers, wavering with an emotion that’s just as evident on his face.

“More of what?” James says softly, stepping the short distance forward so he’s stood directly in front of Fraser. His hand comes up to cup his jaw, thumb rubbing into the red patch on his cheek in a soothing motion. Fraser whimpers quietly, his crying slowing when James rubs the dampened skin.

“Please hit me again,” Fraser asks quietly, barely above a whisper now. “Please, fucking hit me.”

And it’s a request James can’t refuse, honestly. Not when wet eyes plead for another hit, jaw tensing under his fingers, and lip quivering with newly shed tears as the fear settles into Fraser again. It’s addicting.

James hums and wipes at the other man’s eyes, cupping his face in both hands and shushing him softly. It’s a sweet sight in any other context, reassuring, but James knows that it’s all fake comfort, fake touches to build into what Fraser wants.

“You’re so pretty,” James murmurs to him, tilting Fraser’s head up more to look him in the eye. “Cheeks all red and the crying – it’s not fair, really, how pretty you look right now.”

Fraser seems to flush with gratification, cheekbones pushing into the curve of his thumb with a small smile. But it’s short lived when James rears his hand back and lays another harsh slap on the boy’s cheek, a resounding echo of the sound being overthrown by the soft cry that Fraser lets out.

Another curse is let out after, but he doesn’t move this time. Fraser lets James keep him still, a firm hold on his face that prevents him from moving even if he wanted to, and the tears come silently now. Acceptance is all James sees – no provocation, no longer trying to incite him.

“There you go,” James hums, delighted with how Fraser preens under his hands at the soft voice he’s using. “Is that better? You just need somebody to teach you how to behave, don’t you? We can’t have you going around acting like _that_.” He smiles, wiping away a few tears that trail down to his fingers.

“Yeah,” Fraser croaks and brings his hands up to James’ thighs, pawing at his legs for some sort of security. “Yeah, I do. Let me make it up to you.”

James hums a laugh and brings his hand down to Fraser’s chin, tilting it upward again and thumbing his lips apart. “If you want to make it up to me, then shut your fucking mouth.” He tells him simply, “It’s a wonder I haven’t slapped you already with the way you’ve been talking to me.”

Fraser whimpers louder, head facing upwards while his wet eyes train themselves on James’ hands that start to undo his belt. His own hands creep up to try and take over, impatient and eager, but they just get knocked back down again.

“Maybe this is what you wanted,” James muses as he brings his jeans down his thighs slightly, gripping himself through his briefs. “ _Maybe_ you wanted me to hit you, is that right?”

“I–” Fraser starts, but it just earns him another slap, lighter this time but still harsh.

“I thought I said to shut your mouth.” James tuts and pulls down the hem of his briefs, hand curling around the base of his cock. His other grips onto Fraser’s jaw tight, fingers and thumb pressing into his cheeks until his lips part easily. “Maybe you need something else to shut you up, hm?” He asks, but it’s not a question. Fraser knows it’s not. But he tries to answer anyway, stumbling over James’ name before the hand gripping his face tightens.

James guides his cock between the parted lips and lets his hand fall loose, moving it into straw coloured hair and pulling. It makes a whine resonate around him, hands clawing at his hips as Fraser tries to stop him from sliding further into his mouth. But James is relentless, and he knows that Fraser doesn’t mean to actually try and stop him.

“You sound much better now with your mouth full,” James huffs when he’s bottomed out inside Fraser’s mouth, heavy exhales through his nose hitting his abdomen. “You _look_ much better too.”

Fraser whines again and swallows around him, his throat tightening from having his airway blocked. It builds into a choke, a muffled cough he can’t let out, and he starts crying again. James would’ve thought that would be old by now, but apparently not when his cock pulses inside his mouth.

“Stop crying,” James snaps at him, pulling on his hair again, “You’re such a fucking baby. You can’t just act up and then start crying when I give you what you want.” He scoffs and pulls Fraser’s mouth off him by his hair. Fraser coughs wetly, wheezy breaths escaping him as he tries to steady his breathing.

“James, I can’t breathe like that.” Fraser gasps and looks up at him, swallowing down another gasp. He looks perfect, James thinks; wet lips with eyes to match, pink cheeks turning redder by the second from their rough affliction, shaky breaths rattling in his chest.

“Maybe that’s the point,” James looks down at him, readjusting his grip on his hair and rubbing the head of his cock over Fraser’s mouth. “Ever think that it’s probably best to just shut up? Silence suits you better than snark.” James shoves back into his mouth, rough enough that it makes a choke build instantly in Fraser’s throat, wet and tight around his cock.

There’s only muffled sounds after that, the wet sounds of Fraser’s mouth and the occasional choked noise that he somehow manages to make. James doesn’t fuck his mouth, rather letting Fraser fuck himself down with the guiding hand in his hair, shoving deep when the spreading shock of release starts to swim in his stomach.

James considers just fucking his mouth until he can’t breathe, thinks about choking Fraser until he can’t take anymore. It’s tempting, absolutely, but it’s not what James wants to see. He wants to see Fraser’s face become more of a mess, ruined – and he doesn’t think Fraser would mind having that happen either.

“Fuck,” James hisses and pulls out of the other man’s mouth, admiring his flushed face and wet cheeks. “Open up, I’m gonna come on your face.” Fraser groans huskily and darts his tongue out to lick his already-damp lips, resting it on his bottom lip when James starts to fuck into his fist instead.

It’s not hard to come right then, if James is honest, and the sight he’s given of Fraser’s messy face only pushes him along. He misses his mouth, striping white over his cheek and lips, but Fraser doesn’t seem to mind that either.

“I hate you,” Fraser croaks, voice rough and sounding used after the abuse his throat has suffered. “I fucking hate you.” He repeats, sounding less convincing than the first time he’d said it. James feels self-satisfaction sit heavily in his chest as he watches Fraser wipe away one of the last few tears he has to give, knowing the words aren’t true at all.


End file.
